Man Out of Time
by sinnerforhire
Summary: When a solo hunt goes bad, Dean is rescued by Castiel, an unusual stranger. When Dean discovers a secret of Castiel's that could change everything, he must decide how long the rest of his life is going to be. A season 2 Destiel AU based on the book/movie Tuck Everlasting. This story *is* complete but will be posted in chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Dean drifted into awareness slowly. The first thing he noticed was the fiery pain in his side and the aching pull in his shoulders. The next thing he noticed was the change of surroundings. When he'd last been conscious, he'd been strung up in the wendigo's lair, waiting for the wendigo to come and make a meal of him. It was supposed to be an easy job, a little side project for Dean while Sam recovered from a ruptured appendix at Bobby's. Dean hadn't wanted to leave his brother, but Bobby had assured Dean that he was more than capable of looking after Sam for a couple days while Dean took care of the wendigo that had already killed three hikers and kidnapped two others.

The third thing Dean noticed was that he seemed to be alone. He was in a small cabin, but his ostensible rescuer was nowhere to be found. He tried to rise, but the pain in his side lanced through his ribcage, making him gasp and fall back on the surprisingly comfortable bed. Dean heard a door creak, and a dark-haired man rushed to his side.

"You are awake," he said. Dean tried to push himself up once more, but the stranger stopped him with a hand on the uninjured part of his chest. "Do not try to move. You were badly injured." The man's piercing blue eyes seemed to cut straight through Dean to his very soul.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Dean asked, his voice raspy and cracked from disuse.

The man picked up a glass of water and helped Dean left his head to drink from it. "Easy. Take it easy," he warned. "I am Castiel. I rescued you from the lair of the beast."

Dean gulped down the precious water, draining the glass before making his reply. "I'm Dean. Winchester. And I guess a 'thank you' is in order."

Castiel frowned. "My father was not pleased that I took you in, but you would have died without my help."

"Then I shouldn't stay." Dean tried to get up again, but Castiel held him back.

"My father is not here. And you are not well," Castiel said, still implacable. "Your wound shows the beginning signs of infection. You must stay and heal. I will take care of you."

Dean reached for his phone to call Sam and tell him he might be a couple more days than he originally thought, but then he remembered it had been in his coat pocket. "Where's my coat? I need the phone in it."

"You did not have a coat when I rescued you," said Castiel. "And how does one carry a telephone on one's person?"

Dean narrowed his eyes. "You don't know what a cell phone is? Geez, you've been Swiss Family Robinson-ing it out here too long."

Castiel tilted his head slightly to the left, puzzled. "I do not know what you mean."

"Why do you talk so funny?" asked Dean, exasperated. "You sound like you just fell out of a Dickens book."

Castiel smiled enigmatically. Those piercing blue eyes stared at a point far off in the distance. "You might say I am a man out of time."

"What the hell does that mean?" Dean's voice, and his energy, was starting to fade.

"It is not important." Castiel smoothed a handmade quilt over Dean, being careful not to touch the wound in his side. "Sleep now. There will be time enough for explanations later." Dean grumbled a bit but couldn't fight off the sleep that quickly overpowered him.

When he awoke the next time, Castiel was once again at his side. "I have brought food. Are you hungry?"

Now that he mentioned it, Dean was starving. "Definitely," Dean answered. Castiel helped him prop his head on an extra pillow and held out a spoon of what looked to be mashed potatoes. Dean glared at him. "'m not a baby. I can do it myself." He tried to grab the spoon from Castiel, but his abused shoulder throbbed and pulled, stopping him from completing the coup.

"Humor me," said Castiel, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He brought the spoon to Dean's mouth and Dean dramatically rolled his eyes before indulging. Though it severely bruised his pride, he submitted to the feeding. He had to admit that the food was really damn good. You only got homemade mashed potatoes at the tiniest mom-and-pop diners, and Dean hadn't been to one of those in months.

Castiel continued to feed Dean until the spoon scraped against the bottom of the empty crock. "That was good," Dean allowed. He swallowed his pride and whispered, "Thank you."

Castiel grinned. "It is my pleasure."

Dean looked around the small cabin. There were several old-fashioned light fixtures, and a faint hum told Dean they were generator-powered. "Are we alone?" asked Dean.

"Yes, my parents are both away."

"Where are they?"

"In the next town. My father has gone to consult my mother and brother on the matter of my bringing you here. He was not pleased."

"Yeah, well, my dad would've freaked if I'd brought a strange guy home," said Dean, and he was finally far enough removed from his father's death that the mere mention of him didn't bring a lump to Dean's throat.

"You are not strange," said Castiel with a small smile. "A stranger, yes, but not strange."

"Can't say the same about you," Dean retorted. "You're the strangest dude I've ever met. And I've met some seriously strange dudes."

Castiel did the confused head-tilt thing again. "Dudes?"

Dean shook his head. "Thanks for proving my point." He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "You think I could, uh...use the facilities?"

Castiel nodded and moved to help Dean up. "This will be painful," he warned. Fire radiated from Dean's wounded side into his stomach and back. Dean bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out. The few feet from the bed to the minuscule bathroom seemed like a mile. Dean felt shaky and lightheaded from lying down for so long, but he still shrugged off Castiel's attempt to enter the bathroom with him to steady him. Swallowing his pride only extended so far.

Castiel helped Dean back to the bed and got him settled on the mattress. "I must replace the bandage," Castiel said, and his face belied a gravity that worried Dean. "I will endeavor not to hurt you, but I can make no promises."

Castiel fetched a fresh bandage and tape from a chest across the room. He also brought a bowl of steaming water and a cloth with him when he returned. Dean took a deep breath and braced himself for what was to come. Castiel tried to be gentle as he peeled back the tape anchoring the bandage to Dean's side, but Dean still gasped and bit his lip to keep from screaming.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Castiel murmured, lifting the bandage clear of the wound. Dean winced when he saw the blood-drenched gauze, streaked a bit with greenish-yellow pus. Castiel sucked a breath in between his teeth. "The infection is progressing. How do you feel?"

Kind of terrible, if Dean really thought about it. He was hot and cold in turns, his head was pounding, and his arms and legs felt like they were filled with cement. "Not that good," Dean croaked.

Castiel sighed. "I was hoping it would not come to this." He dipped the cloth in the steaming bowl of water and wrung it out. He pressed the cloth to Dean's side and Dean didn't even bother trying to hold back the scream.

"I'm sorry, Dean, truly," Castiel said, low and soothing. Dean tipped his head back and tried to remember how to breathe. He hadn't felt this kind of pain since Sam was possessed and shot him.

*_Sam_*. God, Dean wished his brother were here. He'd make fun of him forever for it, but Sam would have let Dean hold his hand while he ministered to such a severe wound. Though Castiel was trying to be comforting, he was a poor substitute for Sammy.

Castiel wet the cloth again and applied it to the open wound. Dean howled his displeasure, clenching a fist and pounding it into his thigh. "I will be done soon," Castiel tried to assure him. two more times Castiel repeated the task, and two more times Dean shouted at the top of his lungs.

Castiel placed the new bandage with exaggerated care, but it still hurt like a mother. Castiel took the supplies away and returned with a clean, cool cloth for Dean's forehead. It only went a very small distance toward making Dean forgive him. Dean's side felt like it was split open with a hot poker.

Castiel stroked a thumb against the back of Dean's hand, and even though that was unforgivably girly, Dean had to admit that it felt kind of good. "I regret having to hurt you so grievously," said Castiel. "But I must try to draw out the infection. You are starting to show signs of blood poisoning as it is."

"Lucky me," Dean groaned. He kicked off what remained of the quilt. Castiel folded it and set it aside. He slipped a hand behind Dean's neck and raised a glass of deliciously cool water to his lips.

"You must rest, try to gather your strength," Castiel told him softly. "I will watch over you."

Maybe it was the fever, but Dean thought that sounded kind of nice.

Dean's fever spiked alarmingly a few hours later. One minute he was lucid, if a little tired, the next he was determined to retrieve his absent brother from the clutches of a monster only he could see. Castiel tried to reason with him, but it was a futile effort; only breaking the fever could give Dean any measure of peace.

"It's got 'im, I gotta-gotta-" Dean stretched an arm out to an invisible ally, his fingers trembling from the effort. Castiel gently returned Dean's arm to his side and continued to wipe his face and chest with cool cloths. One hand sat in the center of Dean's ribcage, anchoring him in place.

"I gotta go," Dean gasped. "He needs me, he's in trouble, I hafta-hafta go. Lemme go!"

"You must stay and rest," Castiel countered. "You are very ill." He dipped the cloth in the bowl of cool water and wiped some tears from the apples of Dean's cheeks.

"You don' unnerstand. 'm the big brother. I gotta find 'im. Save 'im. 's my job."

"Your brother is not in danger," Castiel told him for the tenth time. "He is not here. He is safe." Castiel hoped against hope that he was not lying. He only assumed that, since Dean's brother hadn't been with him in the cave, that he was safe at home, wherever that was for them.

"On'y safe when 'e's wi' me," Dean mumbled. "I keep 'im safe. 's my job. I promised, Dad. I promised."

"Shhhh." Castiel lay the cloth across Dean's throat. "There is no threat, Dean. You are safe. So is your brother."

"'m sorry, Dad," Dean continued, eyes focused on a point behind Castiel's head. "I messed up. Let Sammy get taken. Couldn't protect 'im. 's my fault. 'm sorry. 'm not a good soldier."

Castiel caught a few more stray tears with his thumb. "You are strong," he whispered. "You must fight this. You must overcome this infection. I do not-" His voice cracked. "I do not know what I will do if you... if you do not..." He couldn't make himself utter the word.

Castiel kept to his vigil, adding ice to the cloth when it became clear his efforts were falling short of effectiveness. Dean rambled and ranted and begged forgiveness from anyone who would listen. Castiel's heart clenched at how forlorn and broken he sounded. A man that young should not know that kind of pain. That was the kind of pain that had driven his oldest brother and his mother to the brink of insanity, the kind of pain that led Uriel to seek solace on the battlefield, and Gabriel to drink to excess and bed any willing creature who caught his eye. The kind of pain that turned his already-bitter father into a seething mass of rage and hatred. It was a kind of pain that Castiel would not wish on any sentient creature, no matter how wicked. It was pain borne of the deep guilt and despair of loss, the profound and crippling pain of the survivor.

"Please," Dean wept. "Please, 's so hot, 'm burning, lemme go, _please_."

"I am trying," Castiel assured him, swiping the ice-filled cloth across Dean's face. He'd placed an ice cube in the hollow of Dean's throat and the crease of each shoulder, but each was melting so rapidly that Castiel doubted their ability to affect the near-infernal temperature of Dean's skin.

"Don' wanna stay 'ere," Dean moaned. "Wanna go 'ome."

"I wish you could." Castiel wrong the ice water out of the cloth and placed it flat across Dean's sternum. "I will allow you to leave when you are well. And you _will_ be well. I refuse to accept any other outcome."

Not for the first time, Castiel was tempted to fetch water from the spring. Sure its-_unique_-properties would immediately heal Dean's injury, an injury he would not have even sustained were he protected by the spring's power in the same manner as Castiel and his family. But he could not make a decision of that magnitude, an irrevocable decision, without Dean's input. It was merely a short-term solution that would ultimately cause numerous long-term problems.

But as hours passed and the fever burned unabated, Castiel knew he would have to take drastic measures if he were to keep his promise to Dean. As Dean whimpered and moaned and begged for forgiveness from his absent-and likely deceased-father, Castiel knew what he had to do. He would just have to hope and pray he was taking the right course of action.

He carried the bowl of ice water outside and carefully set it down at the edge of the spring. He prayed that the solution he was about to attempt would work the way he planned, but he had no true way of knowing whether it would work at all. He dipped his fingers in the spring and allowed a few drops of spring water to mingle with the well water. It could have been a trick of the light, but Castiel thought the tap water shimmered slightly when the spring water joined it. He didn't dare add more than a few drops of spring water without knowing what the outcome would be. He could only hope that diluting the spring water would preserve just enough of the healing property to clear up the infection in Dean's wound.

Castiel carried the bowl of water back to the cabin and set it next to the bed with exaggerated care. Dean's sleep was restless; his head tossed back and forth and he was muttering words that Castiel couldn't make out. Castiel retrieved a fresh cloth and dipped it in the bowl of healing water. He carefully removed the bandage from Dean's side and pressed the cloth against the infected wound, causing Dean to howl in pain and fear. Castiel murmured reassurances as he allowed the healing water to penetrate the festering wound.

Castiel applied more healing water to the wound at the top of each hour until the water was gone. He could only hope that the intervention had come in time. Each time he repeated his task the wound seemed less inflamed, but Castiel did not know whether he could trust his own vision. It could have merely been a figment of his imagination. But after a few hours, Dean slipped into a peaceful, seemingly dreamless sleep, and slept on until the early hours of the morning.

When Dean awoke, his eyes immediately fixed upon Castiel's. "What happ'ned?" he muttered, his eyes rolling around to take in all sides of the cabin. "Where 'm I?"

"You have been very ill," said Castiel. "I am Castiel, and you are in my home. I rescued you from the beast of the forest, but you were injured, and your wound became infected. The infection has finally started to clear."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "No wonder I feel like I've been through a meat grinder."

"I have been tending to you for more than a day now," said Castiel. "I believe the worst is over."

"Thank God." Dean winced and shifted on the bed. "I could use some pharmaceutical assistance here. My side hurts like a motherfucker."

Castiel shook his head. "I am afraid I do not have any modern medication on hand," he replied. "My family does not believe in it." That was a lie, of course; they simply had no need for it. But he couldn't in good conscience tell Dean that.

"Figures, buncha hippie freaks," Dean grumbled, his voice strained with pain and lingering weakness. "Maybe some ice, then?"

"I can do that," said Castiel. He retrieved some ice from the icebox and wrapped it in a cloth. He pressed the small bundle to Dean's side. Dean gasped and winced, but quickly settled.

"I am relieved that you are feeling better. I will admit, for a while I was not sure that you would pull through." Castiel chanced to look Dean straight in the eye. He had beautiful eyes, deep-set and celadon green, framed by the longest eyelashes Castiel had ever seen on a male human.

"I'm tougher than I look," said Dean, a hint of darkness in his voice.

"I believe you," said Castiel, allowing a small smile. He picked up a glass of water and held it to Dean's lips. Dean drank it greedily.

After a short time, Dean spoke. "I don't know if you told me what your deal is before, but I don't remember."

"My deal?"

"Why you live out here all alone, in the middle of nowhere." Dean raised himself up on one elbow.

Castiel took a deep breath. "My family is...different," he said, wondering how much of the truth of his existence he should disclose. He did not want to lie outright to Dean. Dean trusted him, and Castiel felt it was only right to return the favor as much as possible. "They do not believe in many of the modern conveniences you take for granted."

"You're not Amish, are you?" asked Dean, eyes clear and alight with interest.

"No, but the belief system is similar," Castiel replied, dancing nimbly around the truth. "My parents have, in essence, withdrawn from modern life. My brothers have gone out into the world to experience new things, but I have no desire to leave the forest. It is peaceful here."

"Don't you get lonely?" Dean asked softly.

Castiel broke eye contact with Dean. "Sometimes," he answered truthfully. "Since I found you, for the first time I am questioning whether I have made the right choice in staying here."

"Well, don't that make me feel special." Dean smirked, but there was a hint of pride underneath the sarcasm.

"You are special," Castiel told him. "You are unlike anyone I have ever known."

Dean shifted on the bed, not meeting Castiel's intense gaze. He did not speak for a long time. When he did, it was not what Castiel expected. "You got any more water?"

"Of course," said Castiel, moving to refill the glass at the kitchen tap.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Anything," replied Castiel, handing the glass over to Dean.

"Can you go back to where you found me and see if you can find my coat and my phone? I really do need to call my brother." Dean drained the glass of water. "I'd do it myself if I could, but..."

Castiel nodded. "I will go look for your belongings when the sun fully rises. It will be too hard to see otherwise."

Dean turned toward the window, only then noticing the darkness outside. "Oh yeah, I didn't realize it was so late. Or early, I guess."

"I am not surprised. You were delirious for quite some time," said Castiel.

"I was?" Dean's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. "That explains a lot." He looked up at Castiel with a fondness that Castiel would not have expected. "You took care of me."

Castiel swallowed with some difficulty. "I did."

"Guess I should thank you for that." Dean smiled, which sent a frisson of warmth down Castiel's spine. "So, thanks a lot. I don't know what you did, but it obviously worked."

Castiel returned the smile with a slight bit of hesitation. He had done something he was never supposed to do, and he was extremely lucky the gamble had worked. But whether the powers of the spring water had stopped at simply healing the wound, Castiel couldn't know. Not without further testing, of a nature that would surely alert Dean that something was amiss. Eventually, he would have to know, but it could wait a few more days. "I was happy to do it," said Castiel. "I am glad you seem to be healing well."

Dean pressed a hand to his injured side and winced. "Guess it feels slightly better than it did before," he said, his voice strained. "Still hurts like a bitch, though. You don't have anything at all for that?"

Castiel shook his head. "I am truly sorry."

Dean sighed. "I'll survive. I've had worse." The shadowed look in his eyes told Castiel he was telling the absolute truth.

"I wish there was more I could do," said Castiel.

"Don't worry about it. It's not so bad," said Dean, putting up a front of bravado that Castiel could easily see through. Dean was suffering, he knew, and it tore at Castiel's heart that there was nothing he could do about that.

Once the sun finally peeked over the treetops, Castiel headed out to search for Dean's possessions. After about forty-five minutes, he finally located the brown leather jacket tangled in a bush, seemingly undamaged. Castiel took the bounty back to the cabin, only to find Dean trudging weakly back to the bed.

"You should not be up," Castiel admonished him. He helped Dean settle back down on the mattress. "I wish you would have waited for me."

"Couldn't wait anymore," grumbled Dean, but his face lit up when he noticed the jacket on Castiel's arm. "You found it! Awesome." He reached in the pocket and pulled out a small electronic device. He poked at a tiny button for a few seconds, then his face fell. "Shit. It died." He tossed it on the bed with more force than was strictly necessary.

"I am sorry you cannot contact your brother," said Castiel.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "I never told you about my brother."

"You do not remember, but you talked about him quite a bit while you were ill." Castiel smiled reassuringly as Dean fumed. "His name is Sammy, correct?"

Dean's eyes remained clouded with suspicion. "That's what I call him. To the rest of the world it's Sam."

"You obviously care for him very much," said Castiel. "You were extremely concerned about his safety."

"Yeah, well, it's my job to look out for him," Dean replied, and the sour look on his face was starting to soften. "He's all I got."

"He did not come with you on your travels, though."

The corner of Dean's mouth quirked up. "Yeah, he's outta commission right now. His appendix ruptured ten days ago. He's resting up at our friend's place."

"I see," said Castiel. "He is in good hands, I assume."

Dean broke into a genuine smile. "The best."

"He must be concerned about you, being out of contact for so long."

Dean shrugged. "Nothing I can do about that with a dead phone and no charger."

"When you are more recovered, I can take you to the ranger station to use the phone," Castiel offered. "It is about thirteen miles further into the woods."

Dean was quiet for a long moment. His eyes locked with Castiel's and Castiel shivered slightly. There was no mirth left in his face. Castiel swallowed with difficulty. "How lonely are you, Cas? Out here in the woods alone, nobody but your crazy family for company. I'd lose it in a week."

Castiel's heart clenched. "I have never minded it before," he answered truthfully. "But meeting you has changed my perspective on the matter."

Dean's eyes bore into Castiel's, as though he were trying to look past them into Castiel's very soul. Dean shook his head, a small grin ghosting over his features. "I don't know what it is. You're so weird, but...it's a good kind of weird, I think. I've never met anyone like you, and I've been just about everywhere. You're one-of-a-kind, Cas."

Castiel allowed himself to smile at the nickname. It wasn't one he had ever heard before, but he quite liked the sound of it. "I assume that was meant to be a compliment."

Dean's grin was true this time. "Yeah, it was."


	2. Chapter 2

"Your bathroom doesn't have a shower in it," Dean said.

Castiel nodded in agreement. "There is a waterfall not far from here. We wash our clothes and ourselves there."

"Seriously? How nineteenth-century of you," replied Dean. "I could really use a good shower, though. Mind showing me to the waterfall?"

Castiel's face darkened with concern. "I do not know if that is a good idea. It could reintroduce infection into the wound."

"Come on, man. I'm going crazy here. And besides, that wound is almost freaking healed already." Dean pushed up his shirt to reveal the scabbed-over gash. "I don't know what you did, but you're a miracle worker. It hardly even hurts."

Castiel hemmed and hawed for a minute before replying. "All right. I will show you to the waterfall."

After Castiel had collected a few towels, Dean followed him out of the cabin and into the forest. There was a small path worn into the ground that he and Castiel followed. After about ten minutes, Dean could hear the rushing water, but he couldn't see the waterfall through the dense tree cover. The two of them rounded a bend in the path and the waterfall came into view. It was an impressive sight, and Dean's breath caught in his chest.

Castiel stopped by the shore of the creek and pulled off his shirt. Dean's eyes fixed on the broad planes of his chest as though they were glued to it. Finally, Dean shook his head and removed his own shirt, tossing it on the ground next to Castiel's. Dean deliberately looked away as Castiel stepped out of his pants, concentrating instead on shucking his own blood-spattered jeans. A light splash told Dean that Castiel had entered the creek, and he looked up.

Castiel stood beneath the far edge of the waterfall, allowing the flowing white water to thoroughly soak his hair, flattening it to his head and over his eyes, and over his flat chest, outlining the curves of his abs in a crystalline shimmer where the water caught the morning sunlight. The sight nearly took Dean's breath away. He had long ago come to the conclusion that he was equally appreciative of both the male and the female form, and Castiel was the most stunning example of the male form that Dean had ever seen. He was lithe but solid, delicate but still undeniably masculine. Dean swallowed hard and stepped into the creek himself.

"It's fucking cold!" he shrieked.

Castiel turned. "I should have warned you," he called over the crashing of the falls. "It is indeed very cold."

Dean waded through the gentle current to join Castiel under the waterfall's edge. He scrubbed a hand through his wet hair and, following his impulse, reached over and brushed Castiel's hair out of his eyes. Castiel allowed his eyes to roam over Dean's own form, and Dean didn't think he imagined the stuttering gasp that Castiel let out.

Castiel emerged from under the falls and tugged on Dean's arm. "You should not stay under for long," he said, gesturing at Dean's injured side. Dean allowed himself to be led back into the creek. The sand shifted beneath his feet and he nearly toppled, but Castiel caught him against his firm, ice-cold chest. Dean could feel his cheeks heating up as he righted himself.

"You are a beautiful specimen of man, Dean Winchester," said Castiel, tracing a finger down the ladder of Dean's abs.

"You're not so bad yourself," Dean replied with a saucy grin.

Castiel stepped even closer to Dean, so close that he could feel the slight residual heat of Castiel's body. "May I kiss you?"

Dean grinned even wider. "I'd like that."

Castiel placed a steadying hand on Dean's shoulder and brought their lips together. He seemed tentative at first, but when Dean didn't pull away, Castiel deepened the kiss and edged his tongue past Dean's bottom lip to trace the contours of Dean's mouth. Dean slid his hand up Castiel's arm to his shoulder and then to the back of his head. He tangled his fingers in Castiel's unruly hair just as Cas was tangling his tongue with Dean's.

When they broke apart, Dean's eyes met Castiel's and the love he could see shining there rivaled the sun above their heads. "You are unlike anyone I have ever known."

"So are you," said Dean, his voice slightly raspy from his earlier outburst.

"I have not been so intimate with another person for a very, very long time." Castiel's eyes dropped to the water's surface.

Dean intertwined his fingers with Castiel's. "That's okay," he said. "It's been a while for me too."

Castiel stepped out of the water then, and Dean quickly followed. They retrieved the towels they had left on the bank and dried themselves off. After they put their clothing back on, Castiel hung the towels in a nearby tree to dry. "Would you like to see my favorite place in the entire forest?" asked Castiel.

"I'd love to," answered Dean.

Castiel led Dean to the bottom of a rocky outcropping. "At the peak you can see for miles and miles," he said. "But I don't know that you should strain yourself so much."

"I can handle it," Dean assured him.

Following Castiel's lead, Dean started to climb up the rock face. Natural crevices in the rocks made for decent handholds, and the angle wasn't so steep as to require any kind of ropes or rigging. Dean reveled in watching the play of muscles in Castiel's back and legs as he stretched from one rock to the next. Castiel's clothing was damp and stuck to his skin, and his white shirt was nearly translucent in the sunlight.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes, they reached the peak. Castiel took Dean's hand and carefully led him as close to the edge as he dared, and Dean's breath caught in his throat when he looked out at the acres of forest stretching out below them. Birds flitted between treetops, their songs echoing against the rock face, and all Dean could see were masses of green leaves and branches gently waving in the breeze.

"You're right, it's a hell of a view," whispered Dean. Somehow speaking out loud seemed inappropriate.

"It is beautiful," agreed Castiel. "This is why I have never truly considered leaving. The forest is my home. I am happy here."

Dean swallowed hard. If Castiel wouldn't consider leaving, then Dean was probably never going to see him again. Dean's heart sank at the prospect of leaving Cas behind forever. It hurt more than he wanted to admit.

"What are you thinking?" asked Castiel, his head tilted slightly to the side. He must have picked up on Dean's discomfort.

Dean took a deep breath. "About what will happen when I leave. How I'll never see you again, if you want to stay here."

"This is my home. My life is here," said Castiel. "But I do have a lot of time left. Maybe it would not be so bad to try something new for awhile."

"You'd do that, for me?" asked Dean. It seemed like too much of a sacrifice. Not to mention that Cas wouldn't exactly fit into their hunting life. Cas was such an innocent; Dean didn't want to be the one to destroy that innocence.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Castiel's lips. "I am thinking about it."

"How do you know I'm worth it?" Dean asked, even though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

"I can't remember the last time I felt about another person the way I do right now," replied Castiel. "You make me want to be...irresponsible, I guess."

Dean chuckled. "That's one way of putting it." He clasped Castiel's hand and pulled him in for another kiss.

"These feelings are somewhat new to me," said Castiel when they broke apart for air. "Homosexual relationships were quite the taboo when I was growing up."

"Yeah, there's still places left where it's a big no-no," said Dean. "And with the way you talk about your family..."

Castiel heaved a massive sigh. "They will not be pleased. If I leave with you, I may never be able to return. It would be a serious infraction."

"I don't want to cause problems between you and your family," Dean assured him. "If your life is here, your life is here. I'll just have to make time to visit." He smiled.

Castiel smiled back, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was an undeniable sadness there. "In time I am sure you will forget about me."

Dean shook his head. "I'll never forget you, Cas." His voice broke on the last word. "I promise you that."

While Dean was asleep, Castiel slipped out of the cabin and walked the few feet to the spring. He sighed and ran his hands through the water. If Dean drank it, they would have all the time in the world to be together. It would not matter what his father thought about it; he and Dean could run far, far away and live a life entirely their own.

The moon's reflection sparkled in the spring's slight current, and Castiel dragged his fingers right through the center of it, splitting it in two. His thoughts raced. He was forbidden to talk of the spring's power to outsiders, but Dean was more than a mere outsider. Castiel had little experience with love, as he'd seen the detrimental effect it had on his brothers' lives and thus, he had tried his hardest to avoid falling in love with anyone, male or female. As the years passed, homosexual relationships had changed from the ultimate taboo to a state of relative acceptance in the majority population, but his family was of necessity old-fashioned and their ideas had not evolved beyond their foundations. Like his brothers, Castiel had once left the safety of his home to explore the wider world, and he'd had dalliances with a couple of men, but he had never felt anything beyond simple, almost animalistic lust for them. What he felt for Dean was a true spiritual connection. Dean was a solitary soul, he was sure, like Castiel himself was. They understood one another in a way few others possibly could.

Castiel sighed again and cupped his hands under the moon. He brought them to his lips and savored the sweet-tasting water. It tasted like heaven. It was almost addictive, he had found. Once you tried it, it became the only thing you wanted. Castiel supposed that was due to its special powers. He had never been able to decide whether it was a blessing or a curse. At times it seemed to be a bit of both.

"Cas? What are you doing out here?"

Castiel jumped up and hastily wiped his hands on his trousers. "Nothing, just thinking." He stepped in front of the spring and tried to hide it with his body.

"What's that?" asked Dean.

"Just, a little spring. I like to come here to think," Castiel replied, hoping Dean could not observe his nervous demeanor in the dim light of the moon.

"Bet that tastes better than tap water," said Dean, stepping forward and gesturing Castiel aside.

"No, you can't!" cried Castiel, holding a hand out to block him. "It's-dangerous. To normal humans."

"But not to you." Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "You expect me to believe that?"

"We have had many years to become accustomed to it," Castiel replied, his frantic mind grasping for an explanation that sounded convincing.

"So you're saying it'll make me sick or something?" Dean's eyes narrowed.

Castiel sucked a breath in between his teeth. "Or something," he said, unwilling to flat-out lie even though it was clearly in his best interests to do so. "Look, come back to the house and I promise, I'll explain everything."

Dean frowned, but he followed when Castiel started walking back to the house. Castiel ushered Dean in and gestured for him to sit at the dining table.

"The spring is not poisonous," Castiel began, his voice shaking slightly, "but it is not a normal spring. My family found that out a number of years ago. We were passing through, on our way to a homestead out West. We stopped and all drank from the spring, all of us, even the horse. After a few years, we started to notice that strange things were happening to us."

Dean's eyes grew dark. "Strange how?"

"Well, my younger brother fell out of a tree, right on his neck, and just jumped up like nothing had happened." Dean's expression grew darker still. "A neighbor accidentally shot our horse. We never found a bullet hole. We stopped aging. None of us have gotten a day older since the day we drank that water."

"So how old are you?" asked Dean.

Castiel swallowed with difficulty. "One hundred and seventy-six."

Dean's eyebrow climbed toward his hairline. "Bullshit." But his voice quavered.

"It is true." Castiel could not meet Dean's eyes. "My older brother lost his wife and children to cholera. He never showed a single symptom. He lost his humanity after that, started seeking solace on the battlefields-the Civil War, the World Wars, Korea, Vietnam, the Persian Gulf. He has never once been injured. Scores of men have died at his side, and I do believe that every single one makes him a little less sane. My younger brother, he took to the playboy life, gambling and carousing and traveling the world. My mother moves between mental institutions whenever they notice that she does not age normally. My father hides here, away from the world he feels has betrayed him."

"You're saying you're immortal," breathed Dean. "And invulnerable to injury and disease." He sat up straighter. "That doesn't usually come without a steep price to pay. Usually to a supernatural being."

"We don't know the history of the spring," said Castiel. "We only know of its effects. And they do come with a steep price. Living the way we do, living so long beyond our natural time-it changed us. And not for the better."

"Have you ever seen anything…strange, out here? Something you couldn't explain?"

Castiel frowned. "What do you mean?" He wondered what Dean was getting at.

"Like, strange smells, unexplained temperature changes, people or animals that don't seem to belong—that kind of thing."

"No, never," answered Castiel. "I have never observed anything out of the ordinary."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. "Just because you haven't seen it, doesn't mean there's nothing to see."

"I do not understand what you mean," said Castiel.

Dean heaved a sigh. "You're not the only one with secrets. I wouldn't normally be so up front with you, but you trusted me, so it's only fair that I return the favor." Dean raised his head and looked Castiel straight in the eye. "See, my brother and me, we know a hell of a lot about the supernatural. Demons, ghosts, monsters-we find them, and we kill them. And this spring of yours, the way it works, it sure seems like the supernatural would be involved. Cheating death usually involves demons, reapers, or serious black magic."

"You were attempting to kill the monster in the forest when you were injured?" Castiel's mind was reeling. He believed every word Dean said, but the idea that the world did not work the way one thought it did was a difficult concept to master.

"It's called a wendigo," replied Dean. "It's a nasty bugger, but it has a weakness. They all do. People like us, who hunt down and kill all the evils sons of bitches we can, we call ourselves hunters. Most hunters don't have a very long lifespan. Something like your spring—well, it seems too good to be true. But one thing I've learned is that nothing that good comes without a dark side."

"You are partially correct," Castiel admitted. "Immortality comes at a very high price. But that price is internal, not external. It is not outside forces that harm us, it is our own minds. We cut ourselves off from other humans to spare ourselves the pain of losing them, but that creates yet more pain. It is a vicious cycle, one I would not wish on anyone else. It is its own kind of hell on earth."

"I guess it would be," said Dean. "But in my line of work, staring death in the face just about every day, I can't say I wouldn't jump at the chance to drink from that spring."

Castiel took a deep breath. "I cannot say that I would be opposed to you doing so. I would welcome the chance to spend eternity with you, Dean Winchester."

Dean's eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. "Really? You like me that much?"

"Before I met you, I despaired of ever connecting with another human being," said Castiel. "It just seemed like more trouble that it could be worth. But meeting you has changed everything. Even I cannot believe how quickly I grew attached to you. It makes me heartsick to know that you will continue to face death so often when you leave here. I do not want to lose you to a monster."

"Well, that might be the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," replied Dean with a smirk, but there was a sincerity beneath the words that belied the sarcasm.

"I meant every word." Castiel reached across the table and grasped Dean's hand. "If you were to drink from the spring, I would not have to worry about you. You would always be safe."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me to be forever your girl?"

Castiel stared blankly at him. "I do not know what you mean."

Dean chuckled. "Never mind. I meant, it kinda seems like you're asking me on the world's longest date."  
"I cannot deny that my interest in your welfare is not entirely selfless." Castiel looked down at their clasped hands. "I care for you very much, Dean Winchester. It may be improper to say, but even after this short period of time, I do not think there is anyone else I would rather spend eternity with than you."

Dean was silent for a long moment. "I don't really know what to say to that," he admitted quietly. "I mean, I've only known you for a couple days. That's awfully early to make any kind of commitment, let alone a lifelong one, when that life is forever."

"I understand," said Castiel, swallowing past the lump in his throat. He had been rash, and now he would have to suffer the consequences.

"That doesn't mean I'm not considering it," Dean told him, and Castiel's head snapped up. Dean didn't look angry. In fact, he looked kind of…dare he say it…hopeful? "In my line of work, there's a definite advantage to being bulletproof. If my brother and I both drank from the spring, we'd be unstoppable. We could finally make a real difference. Maybe wipe the monsters out for good. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested. And I care about you too, and I hate to think of you only having your shitty family for company for the rest of time. You deserve better."

Castiel smiled. "Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you."

"Look, let me sleep on it, okay? I'll make my decision tomorrow. Now that I'm healed, I'm gonna have to think about getting back to my brother. He's probably flipping out, and I can't call him and tell him what's up."

"I could take you to the ranger station to use the phone," said Castiel. "It's about thirteen miles. I promise I will give you as much time as you need to think it over." "Sounds good to me," said Dean. He stood up. "Let me get my shoes on and we'll head out."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean and Castiel set out for the ranger station around midmorning. "I have a question for you," said Dean.

"I will answer it to the best of my ability," replied Castiel.

Dean had to grin. He was starting to get used to Castiel's strange, overly-formal manner of speaking. He would kind of miss it, once he went back to his normal life.

"When you guys first became immortal, and you started losing people you loved, how did you deal with that? I mean, eventually everybody you ever knew died."

Castiel took a deep breath. "It was very difficult. My brothers started searching for distractions, but they were not entirely successful. Eventually, you will stop wanting to meet new people altogether, because their lives will pass by in the blink of an eye and you know you will only end up alone." Castiel stopped and looked deep into Dean's eyes. "I am unaffected only because I have never lost anyone close to me, because I was disciplined enough not to get close to anyone. I do not know what I would do if I lost you."

"So you're saying we'll get crazier and crazier as all our friends die?" Dean's breath caught in his throat as he thought about Bobby and Ellen and Jo and Ash and all the people they'd ever saved. His stomach twisted as he imagined himself and Sam at Bobby's deathbed, looking exactly the same while he suffered the indignities of old age. He thought about what it would be like to know there was evil out there hurting people while he and Sam lived apple-pie civilian lives. He thought about what losing Jess had done to Sam and what would happen if he got close to another woman who was only going to suffer and die. Suddenly drinking from the spring seemed like the stupidest thing he and Sam could do.

"I don't know, Cas," Dean admitted, his voice slightly strained. "Maybe I don't want to live forever. Forever's a long fucking time to live without human contact."

"It is," said Castiel, and his eyes were clouded with sadness. "I cannot ask you to give up your friends, your life, for me. It is unfair, and I should not have expected you to do so."

"Don't get me wrong, in some ways it seems like the most amazing thing ever," replied Dean. "But there are a hell of a lot of drawbacks."

Castiel smiled sadly. "I know."

Dean intertwined his fingers with Castiel's. "I'll have to think about it some more. Talk it over with my brother, too."

"Of course. It is a monumental decision."

They walked in silence for a long time. The leaves on the trees rippled in the breeze, dappling the ground with the afternoon sun. Dean thought about spending years, even decades, in this virgin forest, with only squirrels and deer and birds for company. After a half-century of hunting, maybe it would be a pleasant respite. They could build Sam a house nearby, maybe get a dog or two to play with like Sam had always wanted when they were younger.

"Dean?"

Dean glanced over at Castiel. "What?"

"Would you teach me to hunt monsters the way you do?" Castiel looked so hopeful that Dean found himself smiling. Cas was adorable.

"I wouldn't want to," Dean answered. "I like you just the way you are. I wouldn't want you to be a cynical son of a bitch like me."

Castiel's face fell. "All right."

Dean took Castiel's hand and laced their fingers together. "Look, hunting's a pretty fucked-up world. I don't want you to have to face the kinda shit Sammy and I have had to deal with. Hunting's the kind of thing you don't do unless you have to. Hunters, they've all lost people in the worst ways you can imagine. They hunt for revenge, or to keep other families from suffering the way they've suffered. I don't want that for you. You're so innocent, I don't want to be the one who ruins that innocence for you."

Castiel nodded. "I understand now, and I respect your feelings." "Thanks." Dean smiled at Cas and stepped over a fallen branch.

The longer they walked, the more Dean started to think that drinking the water was the wrong decision. Images of all his friends, aged and dying, flitted across his mind's eye. He thought about the misery he felt when his dad died, and figured that losing Bobby would hurt even worse. Bobby was as much of a father to him and Sam as John had been. He thought about what the world would be like in 400 years, how it would be nearly unrecognizable. How they would probably end up being incredibly bitter that the world they knew no longer existed. Then he thought about him and Sam and Castiel surviving some natural disaster that left them completely alone on Earth, like the meteor that wiped out the dinosaurs. What if they ended up bitter and insane, desperately wanting to die but unable to? It would literally be a fate worse than death. And what if there really was a Heaven where Mom and Jess were, that they would get to go to eventually? A place of peace, a place to rest, a reward for their travails on earth, that they would be cheated out of if they couldn't die.

"Cas?" he said softly, squeezing Castiel's fingers to get his attention.

"What, Dean?"

"Do you ever regret drinking the water?"

Castiel looked down at the ground. "Every day," he whispered. "And I wouldn't want that for you. It's selfish of me to want to keep you forever."

"I do want to be with you," Dean told him. "It's just that forever is a really, really long time, you know?"

"I know better than most." Castiel heaved a sigh. "If you did something you'd regret just because I asked you to...I would never forgive myself."

"Are you ever afraid of being the last people left on earth?" Dean asked, swallowing hard.

"Every day." Castiel stopped and clasped both of Dean's hands in his. "I fear what will happen when my family are the only people I have to interact with. It's my idea of Hell on earth, to be quite honest."  
"I don't want that for you," said Dean. "I don't know if I'd be able to forgive myself if I just left you to that fate, knowing there was something I could have done."

"I don't want you to choose it out of guilt," replied Castiel. "I could not live with myself if that was the only reason you had for choosing this life."  
"It's not. I really do want to buck the odds and survive life as a hunter, and wipe evil out of existence so I can really enjoy the apple-pie life. It's just, there are a lot of downsides that I don't know if I could live with, since I know them going in, you know?"

"I do. I understand if you choose not to drink," said Castiel. "I will get over it. It will be difficult, but I will do it if I have to."

"I'll come and see you, between hunts. You won't lose me just because I don't drink the water," said Dean, and he was a little dismayed at how desperate he sounded. He knew he was creating a chick-flick moment too, but here in the forest, with no one but Cas to impress, it didn't seem like such a bad thing. Something about Cas made him want to act like a damn girl.

"You will forget about me," said Castiel, eyes downcast.

"I could never forget you," countered Dean. He stopped and pulled Castiel in for a kiss. "You could come with me. At least for a little while. And maybe I'll change my mind about the spring. I'll talk it over with my brother, see what he thinks."

Cas smiled. "I would enjoy that very much."

They walked hand in hand until the ranger station came into view. Castiel went on ahead to speak to the ranger on duty, with Dean following not far behind. Castiel motioned to Dean and Dean walked up the steps and shook hands with the ranger. The ranger showed him to the phone and Dean dialed the familiar number.  
"Hello?" Sam sounded uncertain and a little annoyed, probably because the number was one he didn't know.

"Sam, it's me," said Dean.

"Dean! Where are you? What the hell happened to home by Sunday?"

"Ran into some trouble with the hunt," said Dean. "I got hurt, and a lonely mountain man came to my rescue. I've been healing up at his place."

"But you're all right now?" Dean could practically see his brother's worried expression.

"I'm fine. He fixed me right up. I'll start home tomorrow," replied Dean. "Probably be home before midnight."

"I'm glad you're okay," said Sam. "And I guess I'll see you tomorrow night. Did you get the wendigo, at least?"

"No, I didn't. We're gonna need to come back and clean it out," said Dean, sighing.

"Okay, I guess that's the new plan." Sam sighed also. "Doctor said I should be good to do strenuous work in another three or four days."

"Good news." Dean glanced out the window at Castiel. "I might be bringing a friend with me when I come. He's a good guy, I promise. You'll like him. He's kinda geeky, just like you."

There was a burst of static on the line, and Dean envisioned the bitchface Sam was giving him. "You mean the guy who rescued you? Dean, it's been, like six days. How well could you know him? He could be—"

"He's _not_," Dean assured him. "I know him, and I trust him, and that's gonna have to be enough. I'll tell you all about it when we get back."

"Dean—"

"I gotta go, the ranger needs the phone," said Dean. "Just, try not to worry so much. I'm fine, everything's fine. We're good."

"I'll see you tomorrow night, then. You and your _friend_."

Dean set the phone back on the cradle and thanked the ranger. He walked down the steps and slung his arm around Castiel. "You and I can head out midday tomorrow. It's about nine hours to Sioux Falls."

"Are you sure you want me to come with you?"

"Positive." Dean kissed Castiel on the cheek. "Sammy'll be a little bitchy at first, but he'll get used to you."

"I do not want to negatively affect your relationship with your brother."

"You won't," Dean assured him. "He'll need a little time, but I'm sure he'll come around. Especially when he hears about your family."

Dean and Castiel walked back to Castiel's cabin in silence, listening to the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the chirping of birds. Dean was still thinking about the spring. He couldn't stop thinking about it. Did the bad things about immortality outweigh the good? Would he ever really know the answer to that question? Maybe he should stop thinking and just do it. He knew he didn't want to die young, and he sure as hell didn't want to lose Sam. It was just the whole end-of-the-world-possible-apocalypse thing that tripped him up.

"Hey, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"Did anyone in your family ever test whether you could end your own lives?"

Castiel frowned. "Indeed, my older brother tried every conceivable method he could get his hands on. None of it made any difference. He was immune to every weapon, poison, and drug known to man."

"So it really might be just the five of you until the end of time?"

Castiel nodded gravely. "It may. It is what we are expecting."

"That sucks." Dean grasped Castiel's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I hate to think about you being all alone with them for hundreds of years. But I just don't know that I want to stand there with you, when everybody else on earth is gone. It seems more like a curse than a gift."

"It does," agreed Castiel. "My family has felt for years that we are uniquely cursed. The novelty wore off quite early, I am afraid."

After that, they both kept quiet, embroiled in their own thoughts. The sun was just dipping below the tree line when they arrived back at the cabin. Castiel fixed them a simple meal of roast chicken and potatoes. They went down to the waterfall to wash themselves and then prepared to turn in for the night.

_If you can't save him, you're going to have to kill him._

Dean sat bolt upright in bed. Beside him, Castiel breathed deep and even, still sound asleep. Dean tried to hold back his panting breaths so as not to wake him.  
This was it. This was the answer. This was the way he was going to save Sam. The spring water would save Sam, save both of them. They would beat this whole destiny thing together. Dean and Sam, Sam and Dean. Together, the way they were meant to be, forever. Invincible. Unstoppable. Dean's earlier doubts had slipped away, and only vaguely pricked at his conscience. He couldn't believe that he had been so stupid. This was the only way he had to make absolutely sure that their father was wrong about Sam.

Maybe, just maybe, this whole thing—Dean getting injured, discovered by Cas, and then discovering the spring and its secret—was some kind of arrangement of fate, meant to cancel out the whole Sam-being-destined-to-go-evil shit. Maybe, like Sam said, there was someone or something looking out for them. Maybe Sam's prayers weren't going unanswered.

There was a rustling sound just outside the cabin door. Dean cursed his lack of ordnance and slipped out of the bed, searching for something, anything, he could use as a weapon. He grabbed an iron poker from the hearth and had to hope it would be enough.

A metallic scratching sound caught Dean's attention and he realized someone was trying to pick the lock on the front door. He stepped sideways and flattened himself against the wall closest to the door. As the intruder entered, Dean hoisted the poker to his shoulder like a baseball bat and prepared to swing.

The intruder flipped on the light switch. "Who the hell are you?" he said when he noticed Dean.

"Good question. You first," replied Dean, still holding the poker in a ready stance.

"Me? I'm Gabriel, Castiel's little brother. I belong here. What about you?"

"If you belong here, why'd you have to break in?" asked Dean, but he lowered the poker to rest on his shoulder.

"Because my wonderful father changed the locks last time I left, which was…" Gabriel looked off to the side and cocked his head slightly, the look very reminiscent of Castiel. They were definitely related. "About 40 years ago, now." He smirked at Dean. "Your turn. Explain yourself."

"I'm Dean. I was attacked in the forest. Your brother rescued me."

"Always the Good Samaritan, our Castiel," said Gabriel, glancing over at the bed where Castiel still slept. "And an extremely heavy sleeper." He took something out of his pocket and threw it at Castiel's sleeping form. "Rise and shine, brother!"

Castiel flinched when the object, which Dean could now see was a metal keychain, hit him, and his eyes flew open. "Gabriel?" he rasped, voice still heavy with sleep.

"The one and only," replied Gabriel with another smirk, which Dean was starting to think was his default expression.

"What are you doing here?" Castiel pushed himself up on his elbows and yawned.

"I'm here to bring tidings of great sorrow," answered Gabriel, and Dean could definitely tell that they'd been raised by religious nuts. "Dad's on his way, and he's beyond pissed. We better scram before he gets here, or you're in a world of trouble."

Castiel sighed. "I knew it was only a matter of time." He climbed out of bed and walked over to a chest of drawers to pull out some clothing. "Dean, you must leave immediately. If my father finds you here, you will be in extreme danger."

"He's right," Gabriel chimed in. "Man knows his way around a rifle. And his temper is legendary."

Dean looked pointedly at Castiel. "I'm not going without you."

"I'll meet up with you when I can," said Castiel. "Give me your phone number, I will contact you when it is safe. But I must leave with Gabriel. I am sorry that I will not get to meet your brother."

"Why are you going with him?" asked Dean, telling himself that he didn't sound jealous, even though it was most likely a lie.

"Because I, Dean-o, have a helicopter." Gabriel twirled a set of keys. "It's in a clearing about two miles back. We have to hurry."

Castiel rushed over to Dean and threw his arms around Dean's neck. The kiss was breathless, rushed, and over all too soon. "I will see you as soon as I can. There's a canteen under the sink. Take the water with you."

"You told him?" sputtered Gabriel.

"He will keep our secret," said Castiel, still close enough to Dean that he could feel Cas's breath on his neck. "I trust him. He is our ally, not our enemy."

Gabriel frowned. "We can hash this out on the way. We seriously gotta hustle."

Castiel kissed Dean's cheek and hurried to Gabriel's side. Gabriel pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to Dean. "Put your number in there and we'll call when we get to Hong Kong."

"You're going to Hong Kong?" Dean raised an eyebrow as he typed his number into Gabriel's phone.

"Dad can't cross the Pacific," said Gabriel. "He's terrified of flying. Of course, he almost got shot down by the Luftwaffe, so I can't really blame the guy."

Dean handed Castiel the phone and pressed one last kiss to Cas's forehead. "I'll miss you. Come back soon, all right?" "I will," Castiel promised. "Now, take the canteen and go. Quickly."

Dean retrieved the canteen from beneath the kitchen sink and grabbed his jacket. Luckily, his car keys were still in the pocket. Now he just had to find the car. He'd parked it at the edge of the forest, a few miles northeast of the wendigo's lair. But he had no idea where that was in relation to their current location. He guessed he'd just have to start going northeast and hope for the best.

Castiel closed and locked the door behind Dean and grasped Dean's hand, giving it a quick squeeze. "I will see you soon."

"Not soon enough," replied Dean.

Castiel smiled sadly. "You are correct. Stay safe, Dean."

"You too," said Dean, and his voice was slightly strangled due to the huge lump in his throat. Despite Castiel's promises, Dean wondered if he would really ever see Cas again. But then, they'd have the rest of eternity to find one another.

"Goodbye," Cas called over his shoulder as Gabriel hustled him away in the opposite direction of the house.

Dean swallowed hard. "Bye, Cas."

Once Gabriel and Castiel were out of sight, Dean knelt down next to the spring and filled the canteen with water. As he walked, he was conscious of its weight in his hand. Even though he was sure that drinking the water was the right thing to do, he still didn't dare do it until he could be sure that Sam would drink it also. If Sam refused, Dean would have to refuse also. Dean just hoped he could make Sammy see things his way. He would have to. He knew Sam was just as upset about their father's last words as Dean was. Sam didn't want to go darkside, and he sure as hell didn't want to die. Dean was thrilled that he had found a way to make sure that didn't happen.

It took about three hours for Dean to reach the edge of the forest and another hour to reach the car. By then the sun was beginning to peek out from the eastern horizon. Dean climbed into his car and carefully set the canteen on the passenger seat. It was time for Dean to head home with his precious cargo.

Dean pulled into Singer Salvage just as the sun was beginning its downward descent. He grabbed his duffle out of the trunk and carefully wrapped the canteen up in one of his shirts and placed it in the bag. He shouldered the bag and walked up the stairs to Bobby's house.  
Sam was waiting for him in the living room. "Hey, Dean," he said with a grin.

"Please tell me you haven't been sitting there all day waiting for me," said Dean, but he was grinning too.

"Took you long enough," groused Bobby from the kitchen.

"Yeah, well, you take on the hungry wendigo solo next time," Dean retorted.

"Jeez, Dean, you been in those clothes the whole time? I can smell you from here," said Sam.

"Yeah, I'm gonna hit the shower. Then you and me need to have a little talk," Dean replied as he headed up the stairs.

The hot shower was nice, but the whole time Dean's mind kept drifting back to the shower he and Cas had taken under the waterfall. As much as he loved his brother and was glad to be back with him, Dean had certain needs that his brother just plain couldn't fill. It would be nice to have Cas to fill in that gap for him. It had been a long time since he'd cared so much for another person. He wasn't in love with Cas yet, but he knew that it was only a matter of time. And soon they'd have all the time in the world.

Dean dried himself off and headed back downstairs to collect his brother. But first Bobby and Sam insisted Dean sit down with them and have dinner. The more questions they asked about the unsuccessful hunt and its aftermath, the more vague Dean was with the details. He just didn't want to share those memories with an audience that wouldn't appreciate them properly.

Finally, Dean managed to get Sam alone in the room they were sharing. "I have something to tell you, something big," Dean told him.

"What?" Sam frowned.

Dean pulled the canteen out of his bag and set it on the bed between them. "See, when I was in the forest, I found this spring, and if you drink from it, you become immune to everything—injuries, disease, even death."

Sam frowned so hard that his eyebrows met in the middle. "You know it has to be a curse, or black magic or something. I can't believe you would think—"

"Come on, Sam, don't you think I thought of that?" Dean snapped. "I checked it out. If it is a curse or black magic, whoever cast it is long, long gone. But the family who drank from it, they're still here over a hundred and fifty years later. This is it, Sam, this is what we need to save you!"

"Save me? You mean—"

"I either save you or kill you," Dean finished for him. "Well, I'm sure as hell not gonna kill you, so I'm gonna save you." He held up the canteen. "And this is how. Think about it—we'll never get hurt or killed on a hunt. Hell, we could probably wipe out every monster from Niagara to the Rio Grande. We'll be unstoppable! This is the answer to your prayers, Sammy. I swear it is."

Sam still looked doubtful. "Dean, I don't want to lose you. I really don't. God, after the accident, I—I would've done anything. Anything. Even make a deal like Dad did. But this…I just don't know. It seems too easy, almost, don't you think?"

"This is the only way," Dean argued. "The only way to be sure I'll never lose you, and you'll never lose me. The only way to be sure I'll never have to_kill_ you. This is it. This is the thing that's gonna save you. I know it is. Just trust me. Please."

"Haven't you ever thought about what's gonna happen after we die?" asked Sam softly. "That we'll go to Heaven, and you'll see Mom, and I'll see Jess, and we'll finally have peace? I don't know that I can give that up. I mean, I know hunting is dangerous. I know our lives are gonna be shorter than they should. But at least at the end we'll get a reward. I don't want to hunt for the rest of my human life, let alone an eternal one!"

"But we won't have to!" Dean protested. "If we can't die, we can take on anything and win. ___Anything_. It'll probably only take twenty or thirty years to wipe out all the evil in the entire country. Then, everyone who comes after can live their lives without fear. We could retire and have apple-pie lives and do literally whatever we want. You can go to school forever if you want. You could learn every single language on earth. And I met this guy, Castiel, who's kind of amazing and who really likes me and wants me to spend the rest of time with him. And I want to do that. So please, Sam, say yes, okay? For me?" Sam took a deep breath. "All right. Let's do it." Dean grinned. "I knew you'd come around." He unscrewed the cap of the canteen and took a long swig. It was crisp and cool and slightly sweet, even though it had sat in his hot car for hours. "Cheers," he said as he handed the canteen to Sam.

Sam took another deep breath, screwed up his courage, and drank the water. Dean beamed at him. "Who wants to live forever? We do."


	4. Chapter 4

"Papa Dean! Papa Dean! Come quick! Kaylana hurt herself!"

Dean grabbed the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet and met his great-grandson Kanaan at the back door. Kaylana was sitting in the grass crying, and her right knee was visibly bloody. Dean knelt down at her side. "What happened?" "I tripped and fell on a rock," she answered, sniffling.

Dean pulled the dermatoner out of the kit and flipped the switch. It looked like a fat crayon with a rounded tip, and it projected a small laser that would knit the edges of skin back together. A couple swipes across Kaylana's knee and she was good as new. Dean wiped the blood away with a wet wipe and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "All better?"

"All better," she agreed with a wobbly smile.

Dean grasped her arm and pulled her to her feet. "You want some ice cream?" he asked. "Yeah!"

"Well, come inside with your brother and I'll get you both some. You want bacon cheddar crunch or cinnamon red bean?"

"Cinnamon red bean!" she replied.

Dean hoisted the five-year-old girl onto his hip and ruffled her hair. "Whatever you want, Princess."

"I'm not a Princess! Princesses are lame. They don't even do nothing. Everyone knows that."

"I'm sorry," said Dean, setting her down next to the kitchen table. "So what should I call you?"

Kaylana grinned. "President!"

Dean pulled a packet of flash-frozen ice cream dots out of the freezer and poured some into a bowl. "Fine, President Kay it is," he agreed, setting the dish and a spoon down in front of her.

"Hey, Kanaan? Ice cream time! Put down the tablet and come out here!" Dean yelled in the direction of the living room.

Instead of Kanaan, Cas showed up at the kitchen door. "Sam's on the vid, asking for you."

Dean put the ice cream packet back in the freezer and went out to the videoscreen in the living room, which served as the television, computer, and phone. "Heya, Sammy. How's Japan?"

"Gorgeous," replied Sam. "I had a minute between panels so I thought I'd check in with you and the rugrats."

"Everybody's good here," said Dean. "Met any adoring fans yet?"

"Yeah, a couple students asked me to sign their copies of _Law Through the Ages_."

"Hey, Dean-o!" Gabriel appeared behind Sam on the videoscreen. He and Sam had gotten married sometime between Sam's third Ph.D and the debut of his fifth book. Sam had thrown himself into the academic life after he and Dean finished hunting, and so far he'd earned five Master's degrees, three , a JD, an MD, and 2 . He'd also learned seven live languages and ten dead ones, including Chinese, Japanese, Arabic, and Urdu. He was on the Board of Directors of three different universities, was the Chancellor of Princeton, and had been a visiting professor at twelve other schools. He traveled all over the world speaking at academic conferences and giving guest lectures in law, medicine, and the humanities. "You should have seen Sam at karaoke last night. The host committee had to threaten to cancel his keynote speech to get him to stop 'singing'." Gabriel included the sarcastic finger-quotes.

Sam at least had the grace to look embarrassed. "How was I supposed to know that sake made from hydroponic rice was 189-proof?"

"You're supposed to be shaping young minds, not traumatizing them," teased Dean. Gabriel snorted.

Sam turned around and said something in Japanese to someone off-screen. When he turned back, he was frowning. "One of my students locked herself in her room and won't come out. I gotta go. Talk to you later?"

"Sure thing," said Dean. "I gotta check on the kids anyway."

"See you," said Sam, but Dean could tell he had completely lost Sam's attention.

Dean went back out to the kitchen, where Kaylana was in the middle of some elaborate story that Cas was absorbing with his full attention. Dean wrapped an arm around Cas's shoulders and sat down on the bench next to him. "What did I miss?"

"Not much. Kaylana was just telling me a story she made up while she was outside," replied Cas.

"Well, don't let me interrupt," said Dean with a smile.

Kaylana went on about two astrons who piloted a spaceship to one of Saturn's moons and crashed it, and Dean vaguely remembered hearing something similar on the news a few nights ago. Kaylana was the granddaughter of the first child Dean and Cas had adopted, an orphaned girl who'd lost her parents in a rawhead attack. Dean and Cas had ultimately ended up with four children, nine grandchildren, and fifteen great-grandchildren. Dean had never envisioned himself becoming a parent, but without the kind of ambition that drove Sam to excel academically, Dean had thrown himself into the family life, raising the offspring of monster victims. Though it hurt a lot to lose their children to old age, one of the few conditions modern medicine had been unable to conquer, Dean and Cas tried to simply be grateful for the time they were given and stay satisfied knowing that their children's children would carry on their legacies. And it was especially gratifying to know that their grandchildren and great-grandchildren had been born into a world without evil, a world that Dean and Sam were personally responsible for. It had taken close to fifty years, but Dean and Sam had finally been able to destroy every single monster, demon, and ghost in the continental United States. After that, they had retired to the apple-pie lives they'd always dreamed of.

Cas nudged Dean's shoulder. "What are you thinking about?"

Dean grinned. "Ancient history."


End file.
